


Crisis at Sorrow's End

by wingthing



Series: The EQ Alternaverse [19]
Category: Elfquest
Genre: EQ Alternaverse, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:09:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4694990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingthing/pseuds/wingthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ahdri struggles to come into her full powers as Smoking Mountain threatens the Sun Village.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

Windkin floated above the Bridge of Destiny, struggling to remain fixed in the air. The winds were howling as always over the golden rocks, and now the winds were heavy with dust and black grit. 

“How does the air feel, Windkin?” Grayling called from the horn of the Bridge. 

“It gets thicker ever day, and the land is drier than I’ve ever seen.” He glanced back over his shoulder, and the wind whipped his long brown hair about his face. “It looks bad, Grayling.” 

The chief of the Jackwolf Riders glanced to his lifemate Hansha, but the mild metalworker looked equally sombre. He shook his head. “I’ve never seen it this bad in my life.” His green eyes drifted over the parched land. “No hint of rain for months – they’ll be no flood and flower this year... or many years to come, at this rate.” 

“I know,” Grayling brooded, and his eyes darkened. “I hoped we could see some sign of an end to the mountain’s effect. But we’ve only confirmed my fears. The ash has settled right to the horizon. Have you ever seen it smoke like this?” he asked, though he knew the answer. 

Again Hansha should his head. “Smoking Mountain’s always rumbled now and then, but never this steady plume of ash. What... what happens if it really blows?” His eyes searched Grayling’s face. “What will we do?” 

Grayling touched Hansha’s cheek tenderly. “We’ll figure something out. I was driven out of one Holt in my life, I won’t lose this one too.” 

Hansha’s gaze shifted, and he looked over the hillside west of the Bridge. Three mounds of earth, darker than the rest of the rocky soil, sat on the gentle slope. He shivered thinking of those graves, the first he had ever seen dug in Sorrow’s End. Leetah the Healer had always announced proudly that none had ever died since she came into her full powers. No longer. A rockslide next to the outlying farms had claimed three lives before she could reach them. 

Three graves. Tanah; Rasha; Ingen; Hansha repeated the names in his head. 

They could have counted the rockslide as bad luck, were it not for the drought and the ash cloud, and the gentle tremors that laced through the ground every eight-of-days. 

Sorrow’s End lived in the shadow of rocky cliffs. The next rockslide could claim more than three farmers. And if Smoking Mountain were to erupt... 

“Ayooah, Coppersky!” Windkin called, and Grayling and Hansha turned to see the lanky Jackwolf Rider silently racing up the rocks with a predatory grace that was reminiscent of Rayek. Grayling flashed Windkin a little smile. Were it not for the Glider’s warning, Coppersky could have snuck up behind the two lifemates without making a sound. 

Coppersky reached the peak of the horn, barely out of breath. Grayling marvelled at his tribemate, smaller than Hansha but long-limbed like young Dart, doe-eyed and delicate-looking but a fearless rider and a deadly shot with a throwing dagger. How could such meek creatures as Vurdah and Ahnshen have produced a consummate predator? 

“Anything new in the village?” Grayling asked. 

Coppersky flashed him a cruel little smile. “Oh, nothing. Just that the well is dust, that’s all.” 

* * * 

Only three months ago the Palace had come to Sorrow’s End to the sounds of mourning. Now it returned to greet an even graver crisis. 

Swift and Rayek joined Savah and the leaders of Sorrow End’s inside the Mother of Memory’s darkened hut. Everyone noted how the clearstone wall behind Savah’s throne did not glow with the vigour it once had. 

“The solution seems simple,” Rayek said. “Smoking Mountain is destroying the land, sucking all the life out of the rocks. Your crops will fail, even if the rains finally come. The only option is to leave here. The Palace is large enough to house all the Sun Folk. Once the mountain quiets, you can return. Or you can settle somewhere new and build a new village.” 

Leetah leapt up from her little stool. “We are not Wolfriders, Rayek! We don’t just pull up and ride off to Land’s End whenever we feel like it. Sorrow’s End is our home! Great Sun – you should know that, Rayek.” 

“Easy,” Scouter touched his lovemate’s shoulder, bidding her to sit down again. Then he turned a harsh glare on Rayek. “She’s right. This is our home.” 

“And it is killing you. Great Sun – I helped bury my own sire not three moons past! Two of his friends keep him company in the earth. How many more die before you understand?” 

“How would you feel if we showed up and told you that you had to leave the Great Holt?” Scouter countered. “Or the Palace?” 

“Sorrow’s End isn’t the Palace! How can you compare the two?” 

“Peace, my children,” Savah said. 

“Yes,” Swift crossed her arms over her chest. “We won’t get anywhere by arguing. Savah. Is it the consensus of the Sun Folk that leaving Sorrow’s End is not an option?” 

Savah glanced at Sun-Toucher and Toorah. The old mystic felt the Mother of Memory’s gaze and nodded. So did Toorah. Swift glanced at her brother Grayling, and he too nodded. 

“It is,” Savah said at last. 

“All right. Then what can we do?” 

“We need water,” Grayling said. “The floods won’t come, and the spring that served our well has dried up. We have large storeholes, but they are fast becoming empty.” 

“No problem. Rayek, you and Skywise can shape the rooms in the Palace to hold water. We can find the closest lake in the Everwood and bring back enough water to fill all your storeholes.” 

“We could dig some more,” Scouter said. “Better yet. Ahdri.” 

The wide-eyed handmaiden looked up. “You could shape us some new cisterns,” Scouter said. “It’s no substitute for a well, but it’ll do... until you find us a new spring.” 

Ahdri bowed her head. “I will do what I can.” 

“Let us hope it is enough,” Leetah muttered under her breath. 

* * * 

The spring that fed the well bubbled and filled the bottom of the deep shaft with a slick layer of mineral water, but it was as undrinkable as the water that once bubbled in the hot springs. 

They too had gone dry. Save for the occasional eruption of superheated water, the springs were now no more than dry rock beds, punctuated by hissing fumaroles. And that was what the well became again – dry rock. 

“It’s finally gone,” Scouter brooded as he glared down into the shadows of the well. “All we have left is what’s in our store holes.” 

“Ahdri,” Shushen pressed, “don’t you sense any water... anywhere?” 

Ahdri bristled at the Jackwolf Rider’s tone. “Believe me I have tried, Shushen! I know it means life or death for the village!” 

“Easy, Ahdri,” Scouter said. “We’re all worried. Please, keep trying.” 

Ahdri turned away from the dry well. “Do not expect too much of me. My rock-shaping powers are only now beginning to bud. There may be water far beneath the village or under the mountains... but I cannot tell.” 

“But you’re of Yurek’s kin,” Shushen said. “The only rockshaper we have! Can’t you feel something?” 

“Don’t you think I would have said if I had?” 

“Hey,” Windkin flew into view and settled down at his lovemate’s side. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing!” 

“No, nothing at all,” Shushen grumbled. 

“Enough, Shushen,” Scouter said. “Take it easy. If even Ekuar can’t find us new water under the village, we can’t expect Ahdri to.” 

“Well said, Wolfrider,” Ahdri said icily as she strode away, her sandals slapping softly against the dry dirt. Scouter turned towards Windkin, a proud smile on his face, but it faltered when he saw the cold glare in the Glider’s eyes. 

“What?” 

Windkin shook his head slowly. “Up your ass, Scouter.” He left the bewildered Jackwolf Rider standing by the well and flew to join his lovemate. “Ahdri, wait up.” He glided alongside her as she paced back to Savah’s hut. “Don’t listen to anything he says. You know he hasn’t the brains of a zwoot.” 

**He’s right. If Ekuar cannot find water, what good am I? A useless cringing maiden without the skill to apply her own birthright.** 

“This isn’t your fault, Ahdri.” 

She balled her fists in frustration. “I am the many-times granddaughter of Yurek who first dug that well. The rockshaping powers have always run strong in my family. And then... here I am, nearly a thousand years old and as weak as a kitling. Were it not for the Palace, I might never have learned of my powers. And even now I can do little but make dainty sculptures. And now... when my village has real need of me – I’m useless. Worse than useless.” 

“Don’t talk like that, Ahdri. You kept the water flowing right to the end. I don’t know if Ekuar could do that.” 

Ahdri smiled wanly. “Thank you, lovemate,” she murmured. But Windkin could see that his praise had done little to cheer her. 

* * * 

Rayek noted the signs of drought everywhere as he paced down the lanes of Sorrow’s End with his former lovemate Leetah. It was hard to believe that only four years ago the richest flood in years had saturated the ground and fed thousands of new bloom. 

“It reminds me of my childhood.” 

“Mm,” Leetah nodded. “We have not had a drought like this since before my birth. And the mountain – so sudden – a cruel blow dealt without warning.” 

“There have been many deaths of late. How is my mother faring, truly?” 

“She has a strength in her.” 

“I expected her to wilt. I expected to find her stricken with grief, not up and about in the fields again.” 

“Are you disappointed that she is not stricken, making a monument to your father with her tears?" 

“No. Of course not.” 

“But you are disappointed that she chooses to stay, to return to the fields.” 

“Fields stained with the blood of a lifemate, yes. Fields that are dying.” 

“It is our home, Rayek.” 

“Stubbornness keeps you all here. A dirt-digger’s obstinacy.” 

“Is that any worse than a hunter’s obstinacy?” Leetah glanced at him. “You criticized Scouter for likening the village to the Palace. But to us it is the same. Home is home. Home cannot be uprooted.” 

“Scouter. You seem... content with him. And Shushen.” 

“Does that surprise you?” 

“A little. I did not think they would suit you.” 

“We are more alike than you might think.” She bowed her head to watch her steps. “And Scouter and I both know the pain of losing a dear friend to Recognition.” 

“It was not Recognition that lost you my friendship, Leetah, but your haughty ways around Swift and the Wolfriders.” 

“It is not easy to be the spurned one, Rayek. Scouter found it no easier to remain near Dewshine knowing her lost to him than I found it to be around you, knowing our days of sharing were gone.” 

“But I was never of a mind to share.” 

She smiled softly. “I know. You longed to possess. To own, to devour and be in turn devoured. And Recognition found you such a lifemate.” Now she laughed lightly. “Swift stumbled into our lives with nothing but an empty belly and a vest full of fleas. And only the High Ones know what exactly drew you to her. But it was something stronger than the base instinct of Recognition. You two are... I think I see now, matched in a way we could never be. But the blue mountain you spoke of will rebuild itself before the wolf chief I come to any accord.” 

Rayek chuckled at that. Even after ten eights of years, Swift and Leetah continued the cold antagonism of long ago. 

“But Scouter and I understand each other. And I do not mind sharing him with Shushen, as he does not begrudge me my pleasures... my freedom,” she added with a certain edge to her voice. Again Rayek chuckled. 

“Then I wish you the best; for you still are my friend, in spite of all.” 

Leetah smiled softly. But her eyes drifted to the dry ground where once had bloomed a flowerbed, and her smile faded. 

* * * 

The Palace returned with specially shaped rooms filled with lake water. Soon the cisterns were refilled, and the new storehole Ahdri and Ekuar shaped was filled to the brim. Already the farmers were hard at work digging new irrigation streams to reach the failing crops. 

But the storeholes would run dry soon enough. And then the Palace would have to fly to the nearest lake again. The Sun Folk brooded. Few liked having to rely on the Palace. It did not seem right somehow, that after eighty years of being taught how to be self-sufficient, they once again had to depend on the Wolfriders. 

“If only the spring that fed the well would return,” they whispered. 

“The well has lasted since Yurek was alive. How can it be dry now?” 

The Jackwolf Rider hunted further afield to bring in enough meat to feed the villagers, since the crops were failing and the first harvest was barely one-third the usual yield. 

Ahdri spent her time from dawn to dusk in Savah’s hut, meditating on the Little Palace. She stared at it until the crystals vibrated and hummed, until Savah gently touched her shoulder and bade her rest. 

“You can’t keep pushing yourself like this,” Windkin said gently when Ahdri fell into bed exhausted at the end of the day. 

“How can I rest when the Sun Folk depend on me?” 

“They don’t depend on your alone. Ahdri, you can’t shoulder this burden alone.” 

“No, lovemate. I can. I must. I am the only one who can make the well fill again.” 

Windkin sighed wearily. He rolled over and fell asleep, while Ahdri sat up in bed late into the night. 

* * * 

“These are squatneedle roots,” Jarrah explained as she eased the long root out of the ground. She held it up for Ekuar to see, and the old elf weighed it in his hand thoughtfully. “They were our only source of food during the last great drought, when Rayek was born. The taste is... like chalk, I fear, but with a hint of sweetness that the tongue becomes accustomed to. Well, usually. I fear my boy never developed a taste for them.” 

Ekuar lifted it to his lips to take a bite, and Jarrah shot out her hand to stop him. “They must be boiled first,” she insisted. 

Ekuar chuckled at his mistake, his eyes dancing with merriment. Then Jarrah’s hand lingered on his, and Ekuar’s smile faltered slightly. Jarrah looked away. 

“I fear you won’t find me fit company, Ekuar,” she said sadly. “I – I should return to my work.” 

“Work keeps the mind busy.” 

“Yes,” she smiled. “Exactly so.” 

Ekuar cleared his throat. “I... I know what it is like... the pain, the wanting to dull it. I’ve lost many dear ones in my life. Friends... lovemates... children – yes, children too – little Go-Backs babes born over the years and now scattered to the winds. And I lived long enough to return to the Palace and see all those souls again. Ingen’s in the Palace now. You can see him there. You can talk to him.” 

Jarrah laughed softly. A blush rose to her cheeks as she shook her head. “No, no, I’ve never really learned to send, not even with the Little Palace to guide me.” 

“It’s different in the Palace.” 

“I... I wouldn’t know what to say,” she admitted. “Ingen and I... well, my son, in his youth – in his crosser moments, when I tried to guide him to temper his passions for Leetah – he used to shout that we became lifemates out of comfort and habit, nothing more. We could never understand passion. I must say... when I saw him suffer for want of love from Leetah, I did not envy him his passion. But lately... as I wake at night and remember yet again that I am alone in bed, I wonder if my love for Ingen was nothing but habit... and if the breaking of the habit is what pains me, not the loss of a lifemate.” 

“There are worse things than a good habit,” Ekuar shrugged. 

“Perhaps I’m secretly ashamed of how well I am enduring this... change. Perhaps I fear to see Ingen’s spirit... with this burden.” 

Ekuar mopped the sweat from his brow and readjusted his wide sun hat. He gazed out over the sun-parched field. “My great regret was that I never said goodbye to my two dearest friends. Osek and Mekda. We were children together in the Frozen Mountains, and we were slaves together under the heavy hand of the trolls. I was lucky. I was found by... oh... her name – Kahvi!” 

“The snowland chieftess?” Jarrah asked, remembering the stories her son had told her. 

“Yes. But... I don’t think there was snow when she found me. No... It was years ago... not in the Frozen Mountains, but in the forests south. Oh, it’s a long story, I can’t even remember most of it. But I remember it was long before the Go-Backs were called Go-Backs. And I was shaping a hole to the open air – why? Why was I? I think so old Guttlekraw could have a pit to trap the giant forests beasts. But the Go-Backs – should I call them something else? But they had no name then... they were simply... elves. Where was I? The Go-Backs attacked the trolls. And they found me bound at the bottom of the pit. And they set me free. But I couldn’t convince them to go back for Osek and Mekda. And anyway the trolls were too powerful, and Osek and Mekda were far away – at the other end of the troll caverns. But I was free, with only a missing finger and a cold head to show for my years with the trolls.” 

Jarrah giggled as Ekuar cheerfully lifted his hat to show off his bald pate. 

His gaze grew solemn again. “But Osek and Mekda... so many years for them before they were freed by another friend – the friend that visited your lifemate. Worn away to nothing. Osek with one arm and one stubby little finger, if his bones tell the story right. And Mekda – there was almost nothing left of Mekda before she was freed. No arms. No legs. No mind. And all those years they suffered I was feasting with the Go-Backs and shaping my own little rocks.” 

Jarrah shuddered. “I can’t imagine.” 

Ekuar smiled and shrugged. “So you can see I felt really awful – not having had the decency to say goodbye to them the last time we were all together. But now they’re safe and in the Palace and I can speak to them whenever I want. And when we all touched souls that first time inside the Palace, I wept for so long I cried away all the grief I ever knew. You should go to the Palace. You’ll feel better. And you can go back to the Holt with us – I know Brownskin would love to spend time with you.” 

“Rayek? Oh, we have nothing in common.” 

“You’re his mother.” 

“And a stranger to him, as he is to me.” She shook her head. “Besides, if this drought continues, we will need every hand here to dig out the squatneedle and the tuftroots. I cannot leave the village now, in the time of its greatest need.” 

“And Ingen would never abandon the fields.” 

“Yes.” She smiled softly. “Exactly so.” 

Ekuar knelt down on the ground next to her. “Then perhaps I'll stay too, and lend you another pair of hands. Now, how do we find these squatneedle roots?” 

* * * 

With the Palace’s departure Ahdri and the Sun-Toucher kept a careful record of the water consumption from the cisterns. They reckoned they could last for three months before they required more water. 

“Every three months,” Scouter growled. “Dependant on the charity of the Palace.” 

“That’s no way to look at it, Scouter,” Grayling said. “When we first came here all those years ago the Sun Folk took us in and offered us everything we needed. Now Sorrow’s End is in need. And the Wolfriders are repaying their debt. It’s as simple as that.” 

Scouter shook his head. He had accepted aid without complaint as a child, but now as a grown elf he chafed at relying on anyone beyond the rock walls of Sorrow’s End. 

“Can you not sense any water in the rock?” Ahdri asked Ekuar helplessly. Ekuar shrugged. 

“Rock is all I know. Look where the rock isn’t, and you’ll find your water.” 

“Double talk!” Shushen exclaimed when Ahdri related her conversations with the old rockshaper. “We need water now, Ahdri!” 

“You need to shut your face,” Windkin snapped back. “Don’t blame Ahdri because it won’t rain.” 

“Windkin,” Ahdri asked one night as they lay in bed together, “if Sorrow’s End becomes dust, will you go back to the Great Holt and your parents? You’ve only been here four years, after all. You must long for the endless waters in the New Land.” 

“I’m staying put, lovemate,” Windkin held her close. “I’m staying right here, with you.” 

Ahdri lay awake long after he fell asleep, wondering how long his youthful passions would last, once the crops failed again and Sorrow’s End became as barren as the Burning Waste. 

* * * 

It was early in the morning when Grayling rose to make his morning rounds about Sorrow’s End. Hansha stirred sleepily as Grayling climbed up out of the pit-bed and donned his panelled loincloth. “Mmmhmm,” Hansha mumbled, groping in vain for his lifemate. 

“Keep sleeping, green-eyes,” Grayling whispered, turning to drop a quick kiss on Hansha’s forehead. 

“Mm, stay...” Hansha caught his wrist. 

Grayling wriggled his hand free. “I’ll be back in a little while.” 

Hansha made another vain effort to rouse himself, then settled back in the blankets. Grayling smiled. The metalworker could never drag himself out of bed until the sun shone right through their bedroom window. Grayling imagined that if they ever installed a heavy curtain in the window, Hansha would never get up. 

“And you’re as bad as he is,” Grayling muttered to the dozing jackwolf draped across the doorway. Tawny lifted her head and blinked at her elf-friend, then collapsed back with a heavy sigh. 

The farmers were already in the fields as Grayling made his rounds. The ground was parched and the plants stunned by drought, but the elves continued to coax and tend the shoots as best they could. 

Grayling finished his inspection of the village boundaries as the day’s heat was making itself felt. Turning back for his hut, he decided to walk past Wing’s house. Behtia was already sitting outside on a stone bench, thoughtfully hemming and mending her daughter’s tattered clothes. The little elf-child was stretched out on the sand, her face buried in the soft fur of a golden jackwolf. 

“There you are, Goldenmane,” Grayling chuckled. The aging wolf looked up, sniffed, then set her head down again. Ember looked up at Grayling and grinned. 

“My wolf-friend,” the two-year-old chirped. “She’s mine now!” 

“She’s pretty old, Ember. And fat. And lazy. You won’t be able to ride her.” 

“She’s a good pillow!” Ember shot back. 

Grayling bent down and gave the old jackwolf a scratch behind the ear. Goldenmane had carried him in hunts for nearly thirty years, but now she was too tired to keep pace with the pack, and the pack in turn had spurned her. Cheerful as ever, she now spent her days sunning herself and limping from hut to hut to beg for scraps. Far too many scraps, Grayling thought, patting her full belly. “You’re a fat old lass, aren’t you?” 

Behtia smiled. “Ember will be bonding with her own wolf-friend before long.” She returned to her stitches. “She’s already tearing every tunic I make her. You’re lucky your uncle is a weaver, little one.” 

“She needs some leathers to keep pace with her,” Grayling chuckled. “I’ll take the next hide worth saving I catch to Ahnshen and we’ll see what we can make for her.” His eyes lingered fondly on the cubling. “Seems only yesterday she was a babe in arms. She’ll be riding with the hunters before long.” 

**You want one of your own, don’t you?** 

He turned, surprised. **Am I so obvious?** 

**I see the way you look at her – the way you’ve looked at her since she was born.** Behtia patted the stone bench beside her. 

“How do I look at her?” 

“Like a lovesick pup.” 

Grayling chuckled softly. “Guilty.” 

Behtia nipped off a stray thread. “Recognition strikes when you least suspect it.” 

“It certainly did in your case.” He smiled as he recalled that moment when eyes met eyes in the middle of the dance four festivals ago. Wing had caught Behtia’s gaze and suddenly fallen flat on his face in the middle of the circle, tripping two other dancers in the bargain. 

“My greatest hope and greatest dread,” Grayling added softly. 

Goldenmane lifted her head and whined in fear. 

“What is it?” Grayling asked his old wolf-friend. 

They heard a distant rumble, and the ground seemed to tremble underfoot. Grayling and Behtia felt the bench rock softly, and Ember let out a yip of fearas Goldenmane began to shiver. 

“What? Mama?” Ember looked to Behtia. 

“Just a little tremor, that’s all,” she soothed. “We’ve had them before.” 

Again they heard a rumble, like a roll of thunder in the distance. But this time the noise did not fade away, but grew louder and louder, an angry roar that swept through the village. The ground shook again, and the bead curtain in the doorway danced. Soon even the clay tiles on the roof began to clatter. 

“Get away from the house!” Grayling shouted. Behtia sprang up from the bench and clasped Ember to her tightly. They hurried out of the shadows cast by the huts and they huddled on the open ground until the shaking subsided. Goldenmane hauled herself to her feet and crept over to join them. The jarring vibrations sent a thick crack running up the wall of the hut, and the bead curtain fell to the ground and the beads scattered in all directions. 

“We’re fine,” Behtia said, before Grayling could even ask. 

“Behtia?” Wing rushed down the dusty path. “Ember – are you –?” 

“Fine!” Behtia laughed with giddy relief. “Just a good wake-me-up, that’s all.” 

“Wing, can you–?” Grayling nodded meaningfully towards Ember and the wolf. “I have to go find Savah.” 

Grayling jogged through the village, passing other dazed villagers, including one maiden who was bleeding from a head wound. Most, however, were simply shaken and confused. It had been a long time since a quake of such magnitude had struck Sorrow’s End. 

“Savah!” Grayling came to Savah’s hut just as the Mother of Memory came outside, followed closely by Ahdri. 

“What is this, Mother of Memory?” Ahdri asked nervously. 

Savah’s voice was calm. “A ground quake, Ahdri. The mother prepares to cast her children from the nest.” 

“We aren’t leaving, Savah,” Grayling said. “Sorrow’s End isn’t finished.” 

“Nothing endures forever, young Wolfrider.” 

Scouter rushed up, Shushen close on his heels. “Grayling! Remember the last time Smoking Mountain made the ground shake?” 

“The zwoots,” Grayling growled. 

* * * 

Scouter stood on the Bridge of Destiny, overlooking the dust-filled canyon. The mid-afternoon heat had taken some of the strength out of the stampeding zwoots, but the beasts’ great stamina kept them on course for the village. 

**They’re on their way, Grayling,** he sent, and he turned to sprint down the rocks. The Jackwolf Riders had already positioned themselves at the base of the bridge, weapons at the ready. Scouter climbed astride his jackwolf and looked to Grayling for the signal. 

The Jackwolf Riders had lost three of their number years ago when Dart, Zhantee and later Woodlock had left for the New Land. But now with Wing and Coppersky grown and astride their own jackwolves, and Scouter joined the pack, the Riders numbered eight-and-four, eight-and-five including Windkin, who now hovered above them, ready to spot for them. 

“All right,” Grayling said. “We take no chances. First we turn the herd, then we single out the old and weak for the hunt. We’ll peel off into two lines. I’ll lead the left line. Scouter – you remember how we turned the herd back in the day. You lead the right column. Wing and Coppersky, you’re the fastest riders, you take the outskirts, herd in any stragglers. Windkin, you keep your eyes open. If even one zwoot makes it to the garden Minyah will never let us hear the end of it.” 

The Riders laughed. 

Grayling looked over his shoulder. The Sun Folk sat on the rocks just outside the village. No one wanted to retreat to the caves, not with the memory of a successful zwoot-hunt still fresh in the memories of those who did not dwell in the Now. There was no fear on their faces, only excitement. Behtia kept a firm hand on the little leash Grayling had fashioned for Ember, to keep the cub from scampering down the rocks and joining her father in the hunt. 

Grayling caught sight of Hansha. He smiled and gave a little wave with the head-scarf Hansha had given him. 

**Good hunting, Kel,** Hansha sent back. **And stop preening.** 

Grayling smiled at the use of his soulname. Obediently he slipped the scarf over his chief’s lock and wrapped it about his neck. The zwoots were now just visible through the distant dust cloud their hooves had churned up. 

Eighty years before, the Wolfriders had waited until after the zwoots passed under the Bridge. But this time the elves rode jackal-wolf hybrids adapted to the hot afternoon sun and searing desert air. Grayling led the charge under the Bridge. They raced towards the herd. At the last moment the riders broke into two columns, forcing the herd to turn as they harried the zwoots relentlessly. The fastest wolves nipped at the heels of the zwoots, then darted back to avoid fatal kicks. The older wolves snarled and barked, intimidating with their voices. Tawny darted in and out of the herd, almost uncontrollable in her delight. The two-year-old wolf had never been in so grand a hunt, and she fought Grayling’s every attempt curb her enthusiasm for the chase. Grayling felt his latent wolf instincts rise to the surface and he laughed, hanging on for dear life. 

“Ayooah! Jackwolf Riders!” he cried, forcing Tawny out of the fray. “We drive them past the hot springs. Let them run on through the pass. We’ll take the stragglers, no more! Scouter!” 

“Here!” Scouter shouted back. Grayling caught sight of him weaving in and out of the herd, the recognizable by the blue moth-fabric scarf Leetah had given him. 

“Fall back! Let them see a clear road through the pass!” 

**We’ve got trouble,** Windkin sent. **One large zwoot breaking away, heading for the outskirts of the village!** 

* * * 

“The herd’s turning!” Vurdah exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Oh, my brave Saen, he’s turned the herd!” 

“Of course they have,” Behtia grinned. “They’re Wolfriders – this isn’t the first time they’ve herded zwoots. And don’t take all the credit, dear sister. My Wing taught your son everything he knows about riding.” 

Ahdri stepped down from the rocks, intrigued by the sight. She caught sight of Goldenmane, Grayling’s aging wolf. “Look!” Ember cried, pointing a chubby finger. “Gol’mane! She’s come to watch! Gol’mane! Gol’mane! Over here!” 

Goldenmane limped across the sand, wagging her tail at the sound of Ember’s voice. Suddenly the great zwoot broke through Minyah’s fenced garden, barrelling down the sandy lane. 

“Goldenmane!” Behtia shouted. “Go back! Go back!” 

Goldenmane turned and saw the zwoot. She whimpered and crouched, flattening her ears to her skull. The zwoot snorted and reared up on its hind legs. 

“Gol’mane!” Ember wailed. 

Ahdri broke from the rocks and ran across the sand. She did not think of the zwoot, rearing and beating the ground with its huge padded hooves, trying to intimidate the terrified wolf. 

“Get out of the way, Goldenmane!” Behtia cried. But the wolf was transfixed, snarling and whining at once, looking about vainly for help. 

“Goldenmane!” Ahdri shouted as she raced towards wolf and zwoot. Her sandaled foot caught on the trailing hem of her gown and she fell flat on her face. She felt the drumbeat of the zwoot’s hooves through the dry rock. 

“Ahdri!” she heard Windkin cry. She looked up in time to see Windkin sweeping in on the air. With his dagger bared, he charged the zwoot, driving his blade square between the beast’s eyes. The zwoot collapse to the ground, twitching in its death throes. A moment later Coppersky arrived on the scene. He bounded off his jackwolf in mid-stride and hurried to Ahdri’s side. 

“You all right, rockshaper?” he helped her up. Ahdri’s gown was torn and her left knee was skinned. Her face was bruised and she had bit her lip on impact. 

“I’m fine,” she brushed his hands away, mortified at her state. “Is the wolf?” 

“Goldenmane’s fine, just a little nervous.” 

“By the Great Egg!” Windkin exclaimed as he floated down to the ground. “Ahdri, what were you thinking? You could have been killed.” 

“For precious little,” Ahdri grumbled, brushing the sand from her gown. 

“You’re bleeding! You need to see Leetah.” 

“Windkin, I’m not some wilting flower. It’s nothing.” 

“You know you’re not made for the hunt, Ahdri,” Windkin brushed her hair back from her face. “You should have stayed up where it was safe.” 

She bristled. “I was trying to save Goldenmane.” 

“Just leave the fight to the fighters, that’s all I’m saying,” Windkin said. He tried to right her golden circlet on her crown of curls, an action that struck her as patronizing, and she slapped his hand off angrily. 

“Oh, Saen!” Vurdah raced down from the rocks and threw her arms about Coppersky’s shoulders. “You were so brave!” 

“Agh, Mother!” Coppersky whined, wriggling out of her grasp. “Not in front of the hunters! Look, I’ve got to get back to things, all right? Go back to Father, will you?” 

She gave him a big hug and nuzzled his cheek. “I worry so much, you’re such a little thing.” 

“Mother! Please!” 

Ahnshen hurried down from his perch to claim his lifemate. Coppersky gave his father a grateful tip of the head and climbed back on his jackwolf’s back. 

“Did you see him leap off Catspaw?” 

“Yes, lifemate,” Ahnshen sighed, tenderly yet wearily. 

“He has to be more careful.” 

“I know. I know.” 

* * * 

Ahdri was still in a rage of thwarted ambition that evening as Windkin daubed at her skinned knee gently. “Stop fussing!” Ahdri insisted. “I’m not a child, I’ve had scrapes like these many a time, long before Leetah was born.” 

“I don’t know what you were thinking –” 

“I was thinking I could actually be useful, instead of sitting idly by and squealing like a... like Vurdah!” 

“You’ll never be a Vurdah.” 

“The village is dying and I’m sitting on the sidelines, with nothing to do but study and hope that somehow – somehow I’ll find water! I can’t stand it, Windkin! I have to do something!” 

“Well, you don’t have to go running around and nearly getting yourself killed–” 

“Don’t you put on those Glider’s airs around me, Windkin! I may not be a Wolfrider, but I can do something!” 

“Of course you can,” Windkin picked up the bowl of blood-tinged water and turned to cast it out the window into the rocks below their hut. 

“I’m more than just Savah’s meek little handmaiden, you know!” 

“I never said you weren’t.” 

“Why do you even want to be with me, if I’m no more use than a pet cat?” 

“Ahdri...” 

His tone was wearied, and it infuriated her. Ahdri looked down at her torn gown. Pathetic. Nothing but flimsy moth-fabric, coaxed to curl at the ends. Fitting perhaps for the Mother of Memory, but not the village’s rockshaper. How would she ever find a secret channel of water if she wore clothes that tangled about her legs at the slightest exertion. And her hair, a useless mass of curls better suited to the old days when she did nothing but study at Savah’s knee and fetch her the occasional goblet of water. Now, her dress in tatters and her hair snarled about her face, she resembled nothing so much as an ill-used child’s doll. 

A doll better left on a shelf. 

She saw Windkin’s dagger sitting bare on the nearby table. She snatched it up. 

“Ahdri, if you really think–” Windkin began as he came back inside. His words died in his mouth as he watched her lift the silvery blade to her hair and slashed away a handful of bronze curls. 

“Ahdri! What are you doing?’ 

“What does it look it?” She dropped the curls and seized another section. She gritted her teeth at the pleasant tension as the knife grated against her hair. A tug, a sawing motion, and another handful of hair fell to the floor. 

“Stop it!” Windkin fell to her side. 

“If you’re not going to help, then leave me be,” Ahdri sawed through another hank of hair. 

“All right, all right,” Windkin took the dagger from her. “At least do it properly.” He reached into her hemming basket and drew out the thin sewing knife. “Sit still.” He seized a hank of hair and gingerly cut it. “Augh, you cut it ragged. I’ll have to take it pretty close to the scalp to make it even.” 

“That’s what I want,” Ahdri said. 

* * * 

It was early morning when Ahdri sought out Ahnshen at his hut. Her torn dress hung uncomfortably off her shoulders, and the rip in her skirt had extended all the way up to her left thigh. 

“Ahnshen,” she called as she hurried down the stairs. “Ahnshen?” 

“Whaaat?” a whine came from the room behind the heavy cloth curtain. A moment later Ahnshen stuck his head out behind the curtain. His hair was mussed and his eyes were bleary with sleep. “Ahdri? It is even light out? Great Sun, what happened to your hair?” 

“Dawn was a full hour-glass ago. And never mind my hair. I need your help. I need new clothes.” 

Ahnshen moaned. “Uh-huh. One moment.” 

Ahdri paced as she heard Ahnshen rustling clothes behind the curtain. Ahdri allowed herself a little smile. Before his Recognition with Vurdah, Ahnshen was always up at dawn, ready to woo a new set of maidens. Now he was slow to rise every morning. 

Ahnshen finally staggered out, barefoot and minus his customary headband. Vurdah stuck her head out through the curtain a moment later, and by the way she clutched the curtain about her neck, Ahdri doubted she was wearing anything more than her annoyed expression. 

“Oh, that fall did wonders for your gown,” he drawled sarcastically. “Well, I think we can sew that up, but you’ll probably be happier with a new gown. I have your measurements, so I can make you a new one before the end of the day–” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“Not the same old gown, trailing skirts and cowl-neck. I want something I can really move in. I want trousers like Coppersky’s. And for a bodice – something snug-fitting, nothing that can snag. No cowl-neck, no hanging cloak, nothing. And no moth-fabric. I want something strong, as strong as leather.” 

“Uh...” Ahnshen’s mouth hung slack. “All right. Well, you’re about Coppersky’s height. I can use his measurements for some simple trousers, but I’ll have to measure you for the exact cut and for the bodice – I’ll need some time.” 

“Can you alter my dress until then? Give me something to wear?” 

Ahnshen knelt down and gathered the fabric from the torn gown. “Well, if I gather this here and tuck this here. And if I take some ribbon and tie this off here, reinforce this before it frays... yes, I think we can make something.” 

Ahdri stood, arms extended, and Ahnshen rushed about with cord and knife. Before long the tear in her gown had been used to create a split skirt that was wrapped and bound about her knees and ankles with golden ribbons. Her bodice was slit at her navel, and the loose ends brought to the sides to lace the formerly-loose tunic tight about her ribs. Ahnshen dabbed at his work with cold water to tighten the threads and wash out the dirt and dried blood. “There,” he proclaimed at last. “It’s loose work, but it will serve until I can make something proper.” 

Ahdri looked down at her new tunic and trousers. “It’ll serve,” she agreed, running her hands through her close-cropped hair. 

* * * 

Grayling found Windkin waiting uncertainly at the edge of the well. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Where’s Ahdri?” 

Windkin indicated the well shaft with a weary nod of the head. 

“What? What is she doing down there?” 

“Looking for water,” came the muffled reply from below. Grayling bent his head and looked down the well. He couldn’t see anything. “Ahdri?” 

“I’m here, Grayling,” the distant voice came again. 

Down in the well, Ahdri lay on her stomach as she probed the crevices in the rocks. **It’s strange, you know,** she continued in sending. **I’ve lived here all my life, drawing water from this well, and I never realized what it looks like inside.** 

**Well... what does it look like?** 

**The...** “Uhn,” she moaned as she pulled a muscle in her leg. **The high water line is at my shoulders when I stand on the floor of the pit. There’s a tunnel,** “Hsss!” **That... is just barely large enough to fit through – extends... straight across from the shaft... about three arm lengths. And... and I’m stuck.** 

“Do you need help?” Windkin shouted down the shaft. 

“She’s a rockshaper, Windkin,” Grayling remarked. 

Ahdri sent out a gentle wave of magic to widen the tunnel, and she slowly backed out. **There we are. And I think this tunnel extends...** she sent her awareness down the tunnel. **Five arms lengths beyond reach, before it narrows to a mere crack in the rocks.** 

**Ahdri, I don’t want to dampen your newfound enthusiasm, but what is the point of this?** 

**Ekuar told me “Look where the rock isn’t, and you’ll find your water.”** 

**So?** 

**So, the water that used to feed this well came from a deep underground spring – or – or a underground river. I can see – feel – where it used to come from, welling up in the fissure and filling the well. And the fact that the well never overflowed means that either we were always drawing out just enough to match what was the spring was putting in...” 

**Or?** 

**Or that Yurek made a little dam in a great underground river.** 

**Ahdri, I’m afraid I’m still not with you.** 

**“Look where the rock isn’t, and you’ll find your water.” I’ve found the fissure the water came from. Guess which way it leads.** 

**South.** 

**South-east,** Ahdri corrected. **On a straight line to Smoking Mountain.** 

**So you’re suggesting...?** 

**We follow the fissure, we’re find where the water comes from, and maybe where it went.** 

* * * 

“I don’t know what made me think of it,” Ahdri confessed when they gathered inside Savah’s hut. “But when I dropped down into the well I suddenly – understood! And the longer I listened to the rock, I more I wondered why I didn’t think of it earlier. All this time I’ve been searching the rocks around Sorrow’s End, trying to find a drop of water hidden somewhere under our feet. I’ve been thinking of water as – as little pockets in the rock. Single gemstones. But I should have been looking for rivers, like veins of crystal. Our river has dried up, just like our hotsprings. No, more than that, I think it has been diverted.” 

Leetah frowned. “Diverted? By what?” 

“Smoking Mountain. It’s drawing all the moisture back into itself. To what end, I do not know. Perhaps it needs the water to make that smoke. Perhaps it is simply a side effect. But Smoking Mountain is active drawing on the liquid fire underneath our feet – the same fire that has heated our hotsprings, our hotsprings which once filled with water very similar to our well water. They both dried up at the same time. Everything is connected, and all paths lead to Smoking Mountain.” 

“What do you propose to do, child?” Savah asked. 

Ahdri stood taller. “Follow the underground river. Go to the foothills of the mountain, find where the water has gone, and steer it back on course for Sorrow’s End.” 

Leetah chuckled low in her throat. “You don’t ask much, do you?” 

“How will you do that?” Scouter asked. “I mean, Ahdri – just a few days ago you said you couldn’t find any water anywhere. Now you’re convinced you can just go up to the mountain and bring the water back – like diverting a creek!” 

“Exactly.” 

“Ahdri, this sounds like something more complicated than building a beaver dam.” 

“Not for a rockshaper.” 

“You yourself said your powers are only just starting to emerge!” 

“I can do this, Scouter! Ekuar!” she whirled on the old rockshaper, sitting in the cool shadows. “This can be done, can’t it?” 

Ekuar shrugged. “I’ve never known it done. But that’s no reason why it can’t be.” 

“So you two will go to Smoking Mountain?” 

Ekuar shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no. I wouldn’t know where to begin. But Ahdri has the right idea. She’ll know what to do, I’m sure.” 

Scouter looked over at Ahdri. “Ahdri, I want to believe you can do this – I do. But it’s a full two-day ride to Smoking Mountain in this heat. And between here and there are wild zwoots, mountain lions, ground-quakes, and High Ones know what else. And if you can’t turn the course of the water, and if Smoking Mountain decides to get angry while you’re there? It’s too dangerous!” 

“I agree,” Leetah nodded. “Who knows, Ahdri, you might divert the wrong ‘stream’ and unleash the mountain’s wrath upon us all!” 

“Life is never without risk, healer,” Grayling said. 

“You may feed on danger and blood, Wolfrider, but we do not. And we cannot risk the village’s safety on a whim.” 

“Then we’ll stay here, dependent on the Palace for water and food – until Smoking Mountain finally erupts and we’re forced to turn to the Palace for shelter and a new home. We’ll sit here and let the zwoot eat our gardens. Curse it, Leetah, you’re the one who cannot stand to lose control – who rages and screams when one stray flash flood destroys one little garden. But you can’t have it both ways – if you’re not willing to risk something, you’ll never have control! I see we do it. The Jackwolf Riders can give Ahdri a safe passage across the Waste to the foothills of the mountain. And then – well, I’d rather risk unleashing the mountain than sitting back and waiting for life here to get worse.” 

“Mother of Memory,” Ahdri turned to Savah. “We will follow your counsel.” 

“There is grave risk in what you propose, child. However, it is a hard truth of which Grayling spoke. Without risk there can be no growth. This is a risk none must be compelled to take. Yet if you all choose freely to brave the danger, then you have my blessing.” 

Ahdri smiled nervously. She glanced over at Scouter and Leetah's scowling faces, then at Ekuar’s trusting expression. At length her gaze locked with Grayling’s. 

“When do you want to leave?” he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the full EQ Alternaverse at http://www.janesenese.com/swiftverse


	2. Part Two

Windkin found Ahdri in their house, trying on the new side-vented trousers and midriff-baring tunic, woven of a thick cloth that was reinforced with heavy stitching and raised designs. He had to give Ahnshen credit – even on short notice the weaver melded form and function with his usual grace. 

“Ahdri?” 

“I need new sandals. These ones flop about too much. I can’t run in them.” 

“Run in them? Ahdri, please, talk to me. What’s happening to you?” 

She turned around. “What, Windkin?” 

He held out his hand. “Come on, sit down, and take a breath. Scouter’s right. You’re rushing into things. The other day you were despairing that you couldn’t do enough. Now you seem to think you can do everything! You’ve changed so much – what.... what’s happening?” 

She crossed her arms defensively. “The other day I didn’t know what I could do. Now I do. I don’t see any difference.” 

He gestured wildly at her new clothes, her hair. “You don’t?” 

“You don’t like me like this. You preferred the doll.” 

“This... this anger–” 

“Frustration, Windkin! Frustration – at – at finding myself waking from a dream – a dream I thought was my life!” 

“Your life is not a dream. Didn’t you stop to think that this – this is the dream?” 

“Augh!” she exclaimed, turning on her heel and stalking out of the hut. Windkin stood there a moment, his hand still extended. Then he hurried out after her. 

He found her on the little ledge that surrounded their hut, her legs swinging out over the void. Windkin hung back a moment before he sat down next to her. 

They sat in silence for several moments, watching the sun set and colour the sky in shades of pink and orange. At length it was Ahdri who broke the uncertain silence. 

“Windkin, do you remember when we first starting sharing a hut? You wanted a place closer to the clouds. So I shaped this ledge, above the cliffs, as high as the Bridge of Destiny. And when you said you wanted me to live with you I left my room in Savah’s hut to join you.” 

“Yes,” Windkin said guardedly. “Ahdri –I’m not sure how–” 

“I have only lived in three huts in my long first. First lived with my mother until she died. Then I lived with Savah until you asked me to ‘tree’ with you. Now I live here. I have never lived in my own house. My whole life, I have been defined by others – by my ties to them. First... first I was Shua’s daughter, then I was Savah’s handmaiden, and now, I am Windkin’s lovemate. But I have never really been Ahdri. Who is Ahdri? Who am I, Windkin? Tell me.” 

“You’re... a kind, and loving soul–” 

“Who am I?” 

“I don’t understand–” 

“What pastimes do I enjoy in my free time? What is my favourite colour? What is my least favourite food? What are my dreams?” 

“You – your favourite colour is gold. I don’t know if it’s your least favourite food, but I know you can’t stand raw meat. And you dream – you dream of being like Savah, of having that perfect serenity that comes from knowing so much – and especially from knowing yourself.” 

“I dream of living up to my potential, whatever that may be. To use whatever gifts the High Ones gave me to best serve Sorrow’s End. I used to think – my potential would best be served apprenticing under Savah. Now, it appears rockshaping is my gift.” 

“But... this ambition – this frustration, this hunger. Where is the calm gentle Ahdri I knew?” 

“I would have thought you’d admire ambition, Windkin.” 

“It’s not what I expected from you.” 

She picked up a small pebble and threw it off the edge of the rock plateau. **Why did you wish to stay here in Sorrow’s End and court me, Windkin? Why did you want me? The truth – no falsehoods designed to flatter your pride and mine. Why me?** 

Windkin considered it. At length he replied in sending. **A challenge, at first, I suppose. My lovemates before you – Yun... Spar – they’re... hot-blooded.** He laughed softly. **Wolfrider and Go-Back, what can you expect? And the few Sun Folk maidens I... encountered, well, they were just as... hungry in their own way. But you, you were different.** 

**Cold-blooded?** 

**No. But... different, distant. I couldn’t take my eyes of you, at the Festival of Flood and Flower, the year Behtia and Wing Recognized. You were always so concerned about Savah, or someone who couldn’t see the dances, or some little child who needed another cup of cider. You never seemed to give a care to your own pleasures. So... selfless. And while all the other maidens were dancing, or striking poses to entice the lads, you were quietly moving on the edge of the celebration, your head bowed a little. You never thought anyone might be looking at you.** 

Ahdri nodded. “Yes. You’re right... I never did imagine. I was used to being...” 

“Invisible.” 

“Yes.” 

“And I wanted to show you that you were far from invisible. I wanted to show you, how I saw you.” 

“How do you see me?” 

He touched a close-cropped curl. “Luminous, like a little chip of clearstone alight in the sun. So easily ignored by those who want larger, more dazzling jewels, but with a beauty that’s found by those who look more closely.” 

“An ornament.” 

He lowered his hand. “No. Never.” 

“Yes. There’s no shame in it, Windkin. You saw me as a frail little flower you could nurture into a bloom, a shy Sun maiden you could, with patience and care, transform into a lovemate to your liking, one perhaps who combines the wisdom and serenity of Sorrow’s End with the... appetites of your Wolf maidens.” 

Windkin bristled. “If that was the case, I’d be happier with this... transformation of yours.” 

“I am deviating from the plan you had laid out for us. I am no longer what you expected me to be. You are quite like Rayek, you know, Windkin.” 

“A fact I’m quite proud of.” 

“And perhaps it was that drew me to you, Windkin. That brash, charming desire to control everything, to make the world yours. Your youthful hunger, your possessiveness – I was flattered by it, I admit.” 

“Ahdri... why are you talking like this? Do you want to leave me?” 

She continued to stare out at the sunset. “I don’t know. I think... I think when we return from this journey to Smoking Mountain, I will start work on my own hut. I think I need some time alone... to think about who I am... what I want.” 

Windkin said nothing at first. The silence dragged on, growing more awkward with each heartbeat. At length he rose. “Well, if that’s what you want, perhaps there’s nothing to keep me here after all.” 

He disappeared back into the hut. Ahdri remained outside, watching the stars come out. 

* * * 

The Jackwolf Riders prepared to ride out at dusk, to maximize the available travelling time. Hansha had a zwoot saddled and ready for riding as Grayling’s, Scouter’s, and Coppersky’s jackwolves played in the rocks. Wing and Dodia stood beside Savah’s hut, receiving last minute instructions from their chief. 

“You two will lead the hunt until I return. Nothing fancy – bristle-boars and deer, just enough to feed the village. I don’t want to come back and here and find that you tried to take down a herd of zwoots or a big cat with only half your numbers. If Smoking Mountain blows, you are in charge of the evacuation. Get everyone into the caves. You can wait it out there until the Palace comes.” 

Scouter and Leetah touched foreheads in a farewell embrace. When Scouter drew back he saw tears glistening in the healer’s green eyes. 

“Be safe, Scouter,” she said. “I still think it a folly to go out there, courting danger.” 

“You can still come with us, you know. We could use a healer on this wild zwoot chase.” 

She shook her head. “I am the healer. My responsibilities lie with the village. If there is another rockslide, or ground-quake, more than one hunting party will need my talents. I... I am sorry to be so blunt.” 

“No, you’re right. There are cubs and elders here.” 

“Besides,” Leetah tried to lighten the mood. “Someone needs to keep Shushen in line.” 

“Be safe, kitling,” Savah embraced Ahdri. “Your quest is unlike any other we have known. I can tell you know that this is more than a quest for water. There will never be an end to what you set in motion tonight, my many-times granddaughter. And you will never be the same again. This is your Bridge of Destiny, Ahdri, and I’ve no doubt you’ll conquer it.” 

Ahdri felt new tears well in her eyes. **I wish I was as certain, Mother of Memory.** 

“Here, kitling,” Savah withdrew a small dagger from the folds of her gown. “Something to keep you safe. And perhaps... to remember me by when the night seems its darkest.” 

“How could I ever not think of you, Mother of Memory? And how could a knife remind me of your gentle beauty and wisdom?” 

“Take it, child, so I know you will have a weapon in the wilds.” 

Ahdri hugged Savah tightly. “Your lessons are the best weapon I could ever have,” she wept. “I’d never have the found the courage to attempt this without you.” 

“Let’s go, everybody,” Grayling called. “The moons are up. Time to ride.” 

“Shade and sweet water, kitling,” Savah said as Ahdri reluctantly turned towards the zwoot. 

“Up you go,” Hansha said as he helped Ahdri climb into the saddle. He climbed up behind her as Ahdri fumbled with the reins. “Here, like this,” he said, reaching around and untangling the reins. “Really, rockshaper, I’m surprise you never learned to ride a zwoot before,” he teased. 

“Why are you riding up here, anyway?” Ahdri asked wryly. 

“Because Tawny is still too young to carry me and Grayling together through the desert heat.” 

“And why are you even coming along?” 

“Because I’m not letting Grayling go off on a quest without me. I know these Wolfriders, you give them one taste of adventure and they never settle again.” 

“Saen!” Vurdah raced out to embrace her son one last time before he mounted Catspaw. 

“Mother!” Coppersky extracted himself from her arms. “I’ll be fine.” 

Ahnshen gently drew his lifemate away. But Vurdah held out her hand imploringly. 

“No healer to look after you. All unprotected out there.” 

“Don’t worry. Look, we’ve got Willowsnap with us, right?” The dark red Preserver buzzed around happily, then landed in Coppersky’s hair. “He – it can wrap up any little scratched knee or sprained ankle we get.” 

“Of course it can,” Ahnshen said confidently. “See, Vurdah? They’ve planned for everything.” 

“I don’t think wrapstuff will hold again hot ash!” 

“Don’t waste your breath, Vurdah,” Leetah sighed. “These are Wolfriders.” 

“My son is not a Wolfrider!” 

“Jackwolf Rider,” Leetah corrected. “Just as hard-headed as their forest kin, I fear.” 

Coppersky gave his mother one final hug, then sprang onto his jackwolf. Ahnshen slipped his arm around Vurdah’s shoulder as they watched the party ride away into the night. 

* * * 

The three jackwolves and lone zwoot left the rocks of Sorrow’s End behind them and crossed into the gravel and sand of the desert. Windkin flew overhead, scouting as best he could in the cold night. Ahdri tugged at the neckline of her woollen tunic as the wind picked up. Soon she was shivering in spite of herself. 

“Why am I so cold?” 

“You need a hat,” Hansha said. “Here.” He dug out a long wool scarf. “Without that all that thistledown you’ll lose all your warmth through your head.” 

“Thanks,” Ahdri tied the scarf around her chin. 

Grayling pointed to a low ridgeline of sandstone hills. “I want to make camp there at sunrise. We’ll sweat out the worst of the heat there, then continue on in the evening.” 

“Pweeeeeeeeeeeetwedeeeee!” Willowsnap sang in the crisp night air. 

“Oh, shut up, bug!” Coppersky moaned. “Or I’ll make you wrapstuff yourself.” 

“Be nice to him, Coppersky,” Ahdri said. “I mean, it.” 

“Chop-top highthing likes Willowsnap!” the Preserver took refuge atop Ahdri’s scarf. 

“Didn’t I used to be ‘beesweets highthing?’” 

“Wolfriders often take new names when their lives change suddenly,” Grayling said. “A new skill unearthed, a new journey undertaking. I don’t see why it should be different with Sun Folk – or Preservers for that matter.” 

Ahdri glanced down at the chief. “Did you ever have another name?” 

“No, I was my mother’s ‘little fish’ from the moment I was born.” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand it,” Hansha said. “Changing names like changing clothes. Your name is – is your name! You can’t just change it.” 

**Some names we don’t change, Hansha,** he sent, and Hansha smiled, his cheeks warming slightly as he thought of his lifemate’s soulname. 

Then Hansha fell into a coughing fit behind Ahdri’s head. “Oh, sorry,” he stammered. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just the ash in the air, is all.” 

* * * 

The sun slowly rose as they reached the ridgeline. As light stretched across the Burning Waste, Ahdri saw Smoking Mountain grow from a vague shadow to an angry black beast, still belching smoke high into the pink sky. 

“All right, let’s set up camp before the heat gets to us,” Grayling said. “First one to find us a nice rocky overhang where we can be shaded from sun and ash gets the prime cut of whatever game we catch.” 

Scouter won the challenge, locating a crevice in between two large slabs of rock. There was just enough room for all six elves to sit under the overhanging rock. The rocks were covered with a fine gray dust. The elves coughed repeatedly as they brushed the ash away. Windkin made the mistake of brushing up a cloud of ash just as Coppersky gasped for breath, and the younger Jackwolf Rider was overcome with dry heaves. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Windkin fretted. 

“Here, drink,” Grayling offered Coppersky the water gourd as he thumped his back. “Try to get a wet cough.” 

“Then stop pummelling me,” Coppersky growled. He took a long swig of water then coughed and spat repeatedly. Out of breath, he collapsed next to Ahdri and continued to clear his throat loudly. 

“Ooohh, fawn-eye highthing bellow-bellow much!” Willowsnap exclaimed. 

“Stifle it, bug,” Coppersky murmured. 

“You rest,” Grayling said. “Scouter and Windkin can help me hunt.” 

“Oh, I’ll be all right–” 

“Rest. You can lead the hunt tonight if you like. But this air is thick enough to choke, and I don’t want my best rider to ruin his lungs.” 

“Thanks, chief,” Coppersky rasped. 

“Ahdri, you and Hansha stay here. We’ll be back with whatever we can catch. A little fresh meat with that bread you packed should keep us on course.” 

Ahdri sat herself down next to Coppersky. The youth obligingly rested his head in her lap. 

Windkin growled under his breath. Ahdri allowed herself a wry smile. Even as their relationship hovered somewhere in the air, the jealous wolf in his rose up at any perceived challenge. 

“Hunt the other kind of prey, Windkin,” Coppersky muttered wearily. “Always have, always will.” 

“Just checking,” Windkin said. 

“You must not have much regard for yourself if you’re always ‘checking.’” 

Windkin muttered something unintelligible. Coppersky pointedly ignored him. Windkin gathered up his net and flew off to join Scouter and Grayling. Coppersky’s jackwolf paced at his elf-friend’s side, whimpering softly. 

“Go on,” Coppersky said. “Go hunt. I’ll be fine without you.” 

Catspaw padded off to join the others, and Hansha settled down next to Ahdri under the overhang. “They’ll be a while,” he said. “Grayling and Scouter will both insist on bringing down our morning meal.” 

“We are talking about a ravvit, right?” Ahdri asked. “They aren’t going to come back bearing an entire bristle-boar for the six of us, are they?” 

“Actually, that might work, we need to feed the jackwolves too.” 

“I could eat a bristle-boar,” Coppersky remarked drowsily. 

“You could eat a zwoot,” Hansha laughed. 

“So why is that you can eat twice your weight in roast meat and still have skinnier arms than your mother?” Ahdri gave Coppersky’s bicep a pinch. Though he had seemed to have fallen half-asleep, he still had the strength to swat her hand, just hard enough to sting. 

Ahdri dozed in the morning heat. Soon the hunters returned with a large bristle-boar, just as Hansha had predicted. Scouter claimed the rich liver, while Grayling eyed the haunches eagerly and Coppersky sulked. 

“Um... Wolfriders – I’m not eating any of that until it’s burned to a crisp.” 

“Are you a Sun Folk or a Go-Back?” Scouter laughed. 

“I’m civilized.” 

Scouter snorted. “Never heard of the word.” 

“Obviously.” 

“Enough,” Grayling said, though he smiled slightly. Between Scouter, Coppersky and Windkin, he had his hands full juggling combating moods. 

“I’m afraid I agree with Coppersky,” Ahdri said. “Come, you have sparkrocks, don’t you?” 

Scouter rolled his eyes. “You’ll turn us all soft.” 

They lit a small fire with brush and twigs and roasted several small pieces for Coppersky, Hansha and Ahdri. Windkin, Grayling and Scouter were just as happy to eat their meat raw. The jackwolves polished off the rest. Some water and a few pieces of bread for those who cared for it and they lay down on the rocks as best they could to sleep the afternoon away. 

Ahdri drifted off into dreams of a village fed by a overflowing well, and of yearly floods so precise in their timing that one could predict the time of day when the first rains would come. When she awoke it was late afternoon. Her legs, which had extended outside the shade of the overhang, were covered in a very fine ash. 

The jackwolves were still sleeping, except Tawny, who was gnawing on a boar bone. Grayling and Windkin were both still asleep, and Coppersky was slowly waking up, moaning softly. Scouter was gone, as was Hansha. Ahdri crawled out from under the overhang and got to her feet. She could just see Scouter in the distance, his head and chest just visible above a gravel dune. From his posture she guessed he was relieving himself. She looked around and saw Hansha standing by their zwoot, his hand to its mouth. 

Scouter returned to camp as Coppersky was pulling himself up from his bedroll. Windkin was still snoring softly. 

**What’s Hansha up to?** Scouter asked. 

**Probably feeding the zwoot some breadcrumbs.** 

**Soft-hearted fool,** the tone was affectionate, though a little exasperated. **It’s a good thing we don’t rely on the bread alone. Doesn’t he know zwoots can go without food for moons if they must?** 

**Of course he does,** Grayling’s sending broke into their conversation. They looked down and found their chief cracking one eye open. **“But just because they can doesn’t mean they have to.”** His sending carried Hansha’s own voice, and Scouter chuckled. 

“He’ll give them all names before long.” 

**He already has.** 

Tawny began to growl low in her throat. 

Scouter sniffed the air. “Do you smell something, Grayling?” 

Grayling opened his other eye. “I might as well have a Sun Folk’s nose. What is it?” 

“Cat-like... not unlike a... – mountain lion!” 

Grayling sprang to his feet. “Hansha!” he shouted. 

In the distance, Hansha turned and waved to his lifemate. He did not see, as Grayling and Scouter now did, the sand-coloured form moving stealthily between the rocks. 

Scouter and Grayling raced forward, shouting and pointing. Hansha spun around just as the cat pounced. Even as the lion’s long claws extended, he twisted away from the zwoot, and the fatal blow to the back of the neck the cat had planned never fell. But the massive paw crushed down on his rib cage and drew three large stripes across his abdomen. The cat stumbled on the rocks as Hansha went down. It turned for the final blow, only to be confronted by a terrified zwoot. The lion darted forward, hoping to drag Hansha away, but the zwoot reared up threateningly, and the cat thought better of it. 

“You get the zwoot!” Grayling snapped to Scouter. “I’ll take the lion!” 

Scouter leapt on the zwoot’s back, and struggled to grab the bridle. Grayling leapt between the lion and Hansha, dagger drawn. The cat snarled, baring its white fangs. 

Grayling growled, flashing his own sharp canines. The jackwolves arrived a moment later to flank their chief. The lion roared and swatted out with one massive paw. Spoiling for a fight, Tawny lunged at the lion, catching the paw in her jaws. The lion swung the other limb out and pinned the too-eager jackwolf to the ground. 

Scouter and Coppersky’s jackwolves threw themselves on the cat’s back. Their jaws sunk into flesh and they pulled the lion off Tawny. The lion weighed four times as much as the jackwolves, and it shook Catspaw off its back. The lion reared back, snarling, paws right to strike. Something whistled in the air, and a dagger appeared in the lion’s thick neck. With a weak cry, the cat toppled over backwards and the wolves rushed in to finish the job. 

Grayling looked over his shoulder and saw Coppersky crouched on the rocks behind them, his arm still extended out. 

The attack had not lasted more than ten frantic heartbeats. 

Grayling fell at Hansha’s side. The metalworker was moaning weakly, clutching his wounds. 

“Shh, shh, let me look,” Grayling soothed. He eased Hansha’s bloodstained hands away and his heart sank at the sight of the three gashes. The wounds were not pumping blood, a small mercy, but the muscles were badly torn, and the impact of his fall had broken Hansha’s lower right-hand rib. 

“Willowsnap!” he shouted. “Willowsnap, where are you!” 

**Kel–** 

“Shh, shh, you’re going to be fine,” Grayling gripped Hansha’s hand tight. “But we’re going to have to wrapstuff you.” 

Hansha’s eyes widened in horror. “No, no, please!” 

“It’s all right. You’ll be safe in a cocoon.” 

“Not wrapstuff.” His skin was growing clammy. “Not the sleeping death.” 

Willowsnap arrived and began to spit wrapstuff without delay. “It’ll be fine. It’s just like falling asleep,” Grayling insisted as Willowsnap wrapped Hansha’s feet tightly and flew up the length of his body. Hansha tried to twist his head to see, but Grayling kept his other hand on Hansha’s cheek, forcing the elf to look at him. 

**I’m afraid, Kel. I don’t want to sleep.** 

**I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.** 

The Preserver was now at Hansha’s chest, and it left the hand clenching Grayling’s free as it continued to spin the cocoon. 

Hansha moved his lips, but no sound issued. Tears shone in his eyes. 

“My Hansha-of-the-Green-Eyes,” Grayling whispered, forcing a smile. 

**Send to me... while I sleep?** 

**Of course. Of course. And I’ll be right here when you wake up.** 

The Preserver wrapped Hansha’s head tightly. Grayling gently extracted his hand from Hansha’s and Willowsnap flew down to wrap the hand as well. Grayling noted the subtle relaxing of Hansha’s body under the wrapstuff and he sat back, now allowing himself the luxury of tears. 

Scouter touched his shoulder gently. “We got to him in time,” he said. 

“I know,” Grayling nodded. He wiped at his tears clumsily. “Scouter–” 

“I’ll take him back right now. My Bristleback is the best distance runner. Hansha’ll be in Leetah’s hut before the morning. You keep Willowsnap – no, don’t argue, Grayling. More might need wrapstuff before this is over. This cocoon is wrapped tight. I won’t let anything happen to it.” 

“Thank you.” 

Scouter helped him to his feet. “It’s the least I can do, my chief.” 

“Don’t open the cocoon until I return,” Grayling said. 

“What? Why not?” 

“I promised him. I promised I’d be at his side when he woke up.” 

Scouter nodded. “But... can he wait...?” 

“He can wait forever. In there.” Grayling looked down at the cocoon, mild horror on his face. 

Scouter nodded. “He won’t be touched until you return.” He reached down and hefted the cocoon over his shoulder. Grayling turned and looked at the others, now all nervously assembled on the rocks, their eyes glued to the wrapstuff cocoon. 

“Don’t you need supplies?” Ahdri asked. 

“I’ve got my water,” Scouter said. “I’ll be fine. It’s only a night’s ride back home. Bristleback!” 

The jackwolf hastened to Scouter’s side. He moved to drape the cocoon over the wolf’s back. “Wait!” Grayling rushed forward. He laid his hand on the wrapstuff. **Hansha? Can you hear me?** 

A distant sending replied. **Kel? Am I oversleeping again?** 

Grayling smiled softly. **You keep sleeping, love. It’s hours ‘til daybreak.** 

He felt Hansha’s sending star retreat, and he stepped back from the cocoon. “Carry him safely, Scouter. We’ll be home soon. And... if we’re not... wake Hansha when Savah thinks it best.” 

Scouter clasped his hand tightly. “Don’t say that. I’ll see you all soon.” 

Scouter lay the cocoon across Bristleback’s shoulders, then climbed astride his wolf. Bristleback began a steady lope down the rocks. The four elves watched as wolf, rider and precious cargo reached the sand below and began to retreat faster. The three forms blurred into one receding shape casting a long narrow shadow. 

Grayling would have stood there until they disappeared from sight, but Coppersky touched his shoulder. “Chief?” he asked softly. 

Grayling brushed away the stray tears. “Let’s go. We’ve another day to Smoking Mountain. Let’s – let’s take some bread and water and set out again.” 

They turned back to the camp, but Ahdri lingered, looking at the body of the lion. The jackwolves, having torn out its jugular and slit its belly, and abandoned their kill. Already little ants were crawling out from under the gravel to feed off the spilled blood. The scavenger birds would not be far behind. 

Her eyes were drawn to the massive paw, claws red with Hansha’s blood. 

She rushed up to the cat’s side, drew the dagger Savah had given her, and plunged it deep into its thick neck. 

* * * 

Ahdri felt very alone on the zwoot as they rode on towards Smoking Mountain. Windkin sat with her in the large saddle sometimes, but eventually the night air called to him and he left her to fly overhead. She was just as grateful when he left her. They had very little to say to each other now. 

She missed Hansha’s cheer. She even missed Scouter’s quiet brooding a little. The balance in the hunting party seemed uneven now. Coppersky’s moody silences seemed.... foreboding somehow, in a way Scouter’s did not. Grayling had grown grimly determined, and the steely resolution in his eyes disturbed her. Windkin’s efforts to maintain some degree of levity had failed miserably, and after a sharp tongue-lashing from Vurdah’s son, he fell quiet as well. 

She could only imagine Grayling’s pain. Ahdri glanced up at Windkin as he circled overhead. From the looks of things four years would be all they would have together. Not that she was surprised. Windkin was not yet ten eights. His blood ran hot, a potent mix of Wolfrider and Glider. It would not be long before he wanted a new face. As for herself, she could hardly remember the last time she had had a lovemate. In her nearly thousand years on the World of Two Moons she had preferred the serenity and peace of Savah’s hut to the maelstrom of emotions to be found in the dances of joining. Fits of passion were more trouble than they were worth, she had long ago decided. Better to be calm and still like Savah, to be untouched by extremes of joy or sorrow. 

She laughed out loud as she sat on the zwoot’s back. How naive she had been. 

Grayling and Coppersky looked up at her with vaguely accusatory glances. Ahdri clapped her hand over her mouth and averted her eyes. 

Windkin circled once, then glided down and took a seat on the saddle behind her. He wrapped his arms about her waist. “Well, I’m glad someone can still laugh,” he whispered in her ear. “I haven’t seen an elf so sour since Scouter and I first crossed paths when I was eight-and-ten.” 

**Grayling’s worried,** Ahdri sent back. **I can’t blame him.** 

**Aw, Hansha will be fine. We wrapstuffed with time to spare.** 

**So long as the cocoon doesn’t tear on the ride back to Sorrow’s End.** 

**You don’t know wrapstuff. I remember when Kimo – Newstar’s son, you remember? – was stupid enough to get himself slashed by a stalking bird. And he was worse than Hansha – much worse. But a bug wrapped him tight and got him back to Rain and he was on his feet again before sunset.** 

**You never worry about anything, do you, Windkin?** 

**It’s something my mother always taught me. You can’t change the past – no matter what Rayek might think – and you can’t predict the future. Better to be in the here and now, and in the Now, Hansha’s snug as a bug in his cocoon.** 

**The Now. You might call yourself a Glider, but you have more than a little Wolfrider in you.** 

He shrugged. **I like to think I’m a good mix of both. Some Wolfriders – elders, you know – are so... stubborn, so hard-headed when they think they have all the answers–** 

“Mm, not like Gliders,” Ahdri murmured. 

He gave her a squeeze. “But Gliders do have all the answers. So, are you going to tell me why you were laughing?” 

**Just thinking what a silly kitling I used to be. I never cared for quests or adventures – not even when the Wolfriders arrived and lit a fire in the eyes of my kin. I saw how Rayek suffered in his exploits – his arm mangled for many years after a jackal attack, his heart wounded by his failed courtship of Leetah – and I wondered why anyone wanted to experience such... richness of life. And I was content to stay by Savah and learn her serenity. But I never really thought of it – that that serenity was hard won through pain, sorrow and joy, and all the extremes of existence I had tried to avoid. To think, Savah once made the journey your mother did, across the Burning Waste without food or water. I know the story by heart but I never really understood what it meant. Perhaps because I could never see Savah as anything other than she is now. I feel... I feel like I am waking from a long dream. I feel as though I’ve just shed my skin. And I can’t help but laugh.** 

**It’s good to hear you laugh again.** 

“It’s good to hear myself laugh again. Windkin–” she began to turn. 

His voice turned pained, pleading. “Let’s... let’s not make any rash decisions, hmm? Let’s wait until we get back to Sorrow’s End.” 

“Windkin, I –” 

“Windkin!” 

Windkin looked up. Grayling was glaring at him. 

“Get your eyes up there. I think I see some light ahead towards Smoking Mountain.” 

Windkin lifted off to look. Ahdri looked sheepish. **Sorry, Grayling.** 

But Grayling’s expression softened. **No. I shouldn’t have snapped.** 

**Hansha will be fine.** 

**I know. My head knows it.** 

Windkin flew higher into the night sky and the gritty ash stung his throat. Sure enough, he saw little sparks of light in the distance, haloing the dark shadow growing ever-larger with each step the travellers took. 

**Lightning strikes, chief,** he sent back. **Inside the ash cloud. Smoking Mountain is planning quite the welcome for us.** 

Grayling scowled, and beneath the chief’s lock and tan, Ahdri saw an uncanny resemblance to his brooding elder brother. “We’re running out of time.” 

* * * 

At daybreak they perched on a cluster of broken rocks at the base of the mountain. A fractured ridgeline led due south, slowly rising to melt into the northern face of the volcano. Ahdri knelt on the sandstone and pressed her cheek to the ground. She extended her senses outwards, down deep into the fissure of the rock. “Look where the rock isn’t,” she murmured to herself softly. She could feel the little cracks running through the rock, the tiny channels where once water flowed. 

The ground shook slightly. The haze was everywhere, like a dry mist, concealing the even pyramid of the volcano and the smaller mound that rose from its western ridge. The pungent smell of sulphur hung in the air, stale and cloying. They all held their scarves to their mouths to keep the ash out of their lungs. Coppersky could not stop coughing. 

“Ahdri?” Grayling demanded. 

Ahdri sat back on her heels. Her eyes followed the uneven ground up towards the flank of the mountain. “I cannot tell yet. I need to get closer.” 

“We’re not getting any closer than this, rockshaper!” 

“I can see – I can see patterns in the rock – great lines spreading out from the mountain like a spider’s web. I see them all, as clear as day! But I can’t reach into any of them. The canyon - the canyon where the wild zwoots live.” She got to her feet and craned her neck. She could just see the ripple in the ground that signalled the northern-most edge of the ravine. “We have to go there.” 

“Are you mad?” Coppersky turned on her. “We might as well dig ourselves a little grave and crawl inside.” 

“He’s right, Ahdri. The canyon is too narrow, too close to the mountain. One good puff of ash and poison clouds and we’ll be done for. An a earthquake while we’re in that narrow ravine will bury us alive.” 

“I need to get closer! The mountain is pulling all the life in the rock deep under itself. I cannot get a sense of anything from this distance.” 

“Can’t you.... go out, or something?” Coppersky demanded. 

“I haven’t had enough training yet.” 

Grayling looked up at Smoking Mountain. The summit of the mountain had long since disappeared in the pall of black smoke. “I’m sorry, Ahdri. But we can’t go any closer.” 

“I’ll take her closer,” Windkin said. “I can fly her into the canyon, then back here.” 

Ahdri started, surprised at his offer. 

“The air is thick with ash,” Grayling said. “You can barely stay aloft already.” 

“If we can’t get Ahdri closer the ash will only move north to Sorrow’s End. We don’t have a choice here, Grayling.” 

“We can get out of this black smoke!” Coppersky said. 

“That’s it, turn tail and run like ravvits–” 

“You mind that wagging tongue of yours, Glider, before someone skewers it!” 

“Enough!” Grayling moved between them. “I’ve had enough of this snapping.” 

“Do we just turn around in defeat?” Windkin asked. “We’ve risked too much–” 

“Don’t speak to me of risk!” Grayling growled low. “Now calm down, Glider. Let’s be reasonable.” 

“We’re running out of time!” Windkin exclaimed. The ground trembled again, softly, as if in agreement. 

“We can’t stand here arguing, we – Ahdri!” Grayling shouted, for Ahdri had abandoned her position on the ridgeline and was now running down to the sandy flats below. “Ahdri!” 

Ahdri cast off her scarf and jogged across the sand. The air burned her throat as she ran, but she ignored the pain as she ignored the shouts of the Jackwolf Riders. Her eyes were focussed on a near imperceptible line in the sand, a little ripple caused by the latest tremor. As the elves had argued, she had seen it flare to life, like a red scar under the sand. Now the scar pulsed, widening and contracting in tiny waves. It was breathing. The mountain was breathing. She felt the ground move underfoot with the rhythmic breaths of Smoking Mountain. She felt the sand shake as a jackwolf with rider bore down on her position. 

Ahdri ran faster, willing her legs to keep her just ahead of her pursuer. She collapsed at the fissure and plunged her hands deep into the cold sand. She vaguely heard the ‘thump’ of a ride dismounting, but she was even now rapidly shutting out her mind to everything but the fissure beneath her hands. 

“Ahdri! What are you doing, come on!” 

Coppersky’s angry rasp, and a hand on her shoulder. But the sensations were no more real than a dream. 

She felt herself falling into the sand, into the rock below, following the fissure down. She descended through the layers of rock, feeling the heat rise around her. There had been water here, once. Now there were only traces of steam pulsing against the rock. 

“The water was here,” she whispered. “This is the riverbed. Not the spring... where is this spring? Have to.... look where the rock isn’t...” 

She felt herself fragment into countless little lights, each light following another crack in the rocks. She poured her consciousness through the fissures, hunting for telltale traces of water. 

The ground shook beneath her knees. The mountain was growing impatient with her probing. 

Heat, everywhere... 

Steam... 

Steam... rising... 

“Ahdri!” Windkin caught her shoulder and yanked her to her feet a moment before the sand sank underfoot and a great plume of steam broke up through the thin ground. Windkin and Coppersky hustled the rockshaper out of the way. 

“Well, you found some water, at least,” Coppersky quipped. 

“I need to go back,” Ahdri said. “I need to go back in.” 

Against the ground shook. “It’s too dangerous,” Grayling shouted over the hissing of steam. “We have to get back to higher ground.” 

“I have to go back, Grayling!” Ahdri pleaded. “It’s almost too late. The liquid fire is rising fast!” 

“Let her go, Grayling!” 

“Windkin, are you mad?” 

The mountain rumbled, and they watched in horror as a distant landslide slid down the northern slope of the volcano. Another steam vent exploded to life on the edge of the zwoot canyon. 

Ahdri knelt down on the ground again. Grayling moved to stop her, and Windkin blocked his path. “Let her try. What other chance do we have now? What other chance does the village have?” 

Emboldened by Windkin’s faith, Ahdri returned her mind to the fissures in the rocks. The hot spot was travelling up directly under the cone of the volcano, but the heat spread outward through the network of cracks. The hot spot had fed the hot springs since the infancy of Sorrow’s End, but now the heat was drawing back in under the volcano, and taking everything with it. 

Pressure, everywhere, the throbbing of the earth’s arteries... 

The pressure had to be released. Where? How? Not up, not into Smoking Mountain. It would explode and all would be lost. 

Pain... heat... 

She tried nudging it gently; she felt her spirit-self pushing against the hotspot, pushing it further underground. 

The ground rocked underfoot. New steam vents pierced the earth at the canyon’s edge. The jackwolves whined and flattened themselves to the ground. The zwoot panicked and fled. 

**Ahdri!** Grayling called. **Whatever you’re doing, it’s not working!** 

Rage... 

No, the rock had no life, no emotions. It only wanted to escape, to break free of the earth’s heat. 

She tried nudging the pool of fire again. This time she pushed it south. 

It fought back against her. The earth continued shake. 

**Ahdri, whatever you’re going to do, do it now!** Grayling shouted in her mind. 

**I can’t....** 

She pushed against the fire. Slowly, sluggishly it rolled over on itself, burning a path through the rock. The earth rebelled against her clumsiness and new fissures spiderwebbed out from the mountain. 

“I can’t....” Ahdri murmured weakly. Her strength was failing her and her spirit-self withdrew. 

**You can, Ahdri,** Windkin sent. **Just hold on.** 

She reached down anew. “Look where the rock isn’t...” she murmured to herself. 

Heat... rage... 

Light. 

Her last effort had broken open a new fissure, running south, slowly rising until it broke through the sky. 

Again she nudged the molten rock. It rolled south reluctantly. The pressure built again, threatening to collapse the entire substructure of Smoking Mountain. 

Pressure... 

Escape... 

The liquid fire found the fissure and rose, almost joyously, towards the surface. The pressure ebbed. The tremors eased. 

Ahdri collapsed. 

* * * 

When she came to they had retreated to the ridgeline. The zwoot was gone, lost somewhere on the plains, and Coppersky had ridden off in search of it. Grayling was pacing the rocks, scanning the mountain for signs of danger. Windkin was holding her in his arms. 

“You gave us a scare, Ahdri,” he smiled clumsily. 

“The quakes–” 

“They’ve stopped. I don’t know what you did, but it worked, for now, at least.” 

She slowly sat up, with Windkin’s help. He offered her the water-skin, and she drank greedily. 

“I heard you send to me,” she said. 

He looked mildly embarrassed. “I hope it didn’t distract you.” 

“No... it gave me strength.” 

“Ahdri,” Grayling crouched down next to her. “What happened?” 

“I make a new river course for the liquid fire. The heat that feed Smoking Mountain has been diverted south. What else I may have done... I don’t know.” 

“I know. Rest now.” 

Windkin helped Ahdri move into the shade of a large boulder. Again Windkin offered her the water-skin, and again she drank deep. 

“I feel so... dried out inside,” she gasped around the lip of the skin. 

“Thirsty work, trying to reason with liquid fire.” Windkin floated up and scanned the surrounding rocks. “I just hope Coppersky can find that cursed zwoot, or we might not have much more water to spare.” 

“Water...” Ahdri whispered. She touched her hand to the ground and extended her spirit-self down into the strata below. At length she smiled. 

* * * 

The Jackwolf Riders returned to hero’s welcome. Maidens rushed to greet the hunters, bearing full bowls of water. “Fresh from the well!” Ruffel announced. “The first water that bubbled up was briny and barely fit for the zwoots, but by last night the water was cool and clear. Even the hot springs are beginning to fill again – but the water is much cooler than before, and much more pungent.” 

“Saen!” Vurdah cried out. Coppersky set his shoulders stiffly, his expression one of grim resolution, as his mother assaulted him with kisses. 

“Shade and sweet water, kitling,” Savah offered Ahdri water from her golden goblet. “I have never been happier to offer a traveller such.” 

“I still don’t know exactly what I may have done,” Ahdri said. “I don’t know if the water is here to stay or not–” 

“Shh, kitling. It is here now. And we have already refilled all our storeholes, plus a new one Ekuar dug this morning. Even if the water ebbs again, we will be well prepared.” 

“I... I cannot promise anything. Smoking Mountain may soon roar to life again. We may not have forever here after all.” 

“No,” Savah said. “No one can promise us forever. But we have tonight. And that is more than we would have had without you, Ahdri.” 

Grayling exchanged quick clasps-of-the-shoulders with Dodia and Wing, then rushed for Leetah’s hut. 

The cocoon was lying on the edge of Leetah’s pit-bed. “I must say, it was somewhat uncomfortable sleeping knowing I had an uninvited guest – however fast asleep,” Leetah said pointedly as she and Scouter shifted the cocoon into the bed. “But he has not been touched, as you ordered.” A hint of venom in her voice. Scouter touched her hand gently. 

Grayling sat down next to the cocoon as Scouter cut it open with his dagger. Leetah’s hands slipped in before the suspended animation of wrapstuff could fully lift, and instantly a healing glow surrounded the open cocoon and the dozing elf inside. The gashes in his torso closed and healed over with shiny scar tissue. The bruises from his broken rib eased as the bone knit and the internal bleeding ebbed. At length Hansha opened his eyes and gazed up at Grayling’s anxious face. 

“Lifemate...?” 

“Hey, green eyes,” Grayling clutched his hand tight. “Told you I wasn’t going anywhere.” 

* * * 

The lanterns were lit and the Sun Folk danced on the mats as the squatneedle cider flowed freely. Little Ember sat atop old Goldenmane and the jackwolf obligingly shuffled around the dancing mats while the cubling giggled and cried: “I’m a Wolfrider, look at me, I’m a Wolfrider!” Ahnshen and Vurdah curled up together on the sidelines and fed each other dreamberries. Leetah donned her best moth-fabric gown and danced for Scouter and Shushen. Even Jarrah was smiling again as she shared cider with Ekuar and they traded stories of Rayek’s stubbornness. 

Ahdri strayed from the dais and her place of honour as the night wore on, and sought out a quiet shadow at the edge of the festivities. It was not long before Windkin caught up with her. 

“Savah will call for the Palace tomorrow,” he said. “But tonight is our night to celebration. Ours alone. So how does it feel to be the one they dance for?” 

“Strange. This new skin of mine feels... awkward, like sandals not like broken in.” 

“I think you’ll grow more comfortable with it soon enough.” 

“And you, lovemate?” she turned to regard him. “What do you think of my new skin?” 

“It confused me, I’ll admit. But I’m growing to like it... very much,” he added in a low voice. 

She took a step away as he tried to glide closer. “Windkin. Things cannot be as they were. I’m not the delicate flower you decided to cultivate four years ago.” 

“Ahdri, I don’t want to lose you.” 

“Truly? Or do you simply fear losing a comfortable habit?” 

Windkin flinched, but he had to nod at her insight. “We were a bit of a habit, I admit. And a comfortable one – very comfortable,” he chuckled softly. “But these last few days... it’s as if I’ve met a completely different maiden. One I’d very much like to know better.” 

She touched his cheek fondly. “I am many times your elder, Windkin. And I’ve never had patience for dalliances of the heart.” 

He swallowed. “My heart is growing weary of dallying too.” 

She let her hand fall to her side. “I still want my own hut. My own sanctuary, my own space. But I would like your company.” 

“We are not so poor in Sorrow’s End that we can’t afford two huts for two lovemates.” 

“And perhaps more than lovemates... one day? Or is your head too high in the clouds to ever consider taking root in this soil?” 

Windkin flushed. “Far too high in the clouds tonight. But I’d like to come down to earth one day.” 

“No promises.” 

“No. But a pledge... to see you as you are, not as I’d like you to be.” 

Ahdri leaned up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek fondly. And then she melted against him, and Windkin held her close, nuzzling his cheek against her tight curls. 

“Ahdri...” he whispered. 

A low rumble startled them. They sensed the familiar precursor to an earthquake, and Windkin lifted Ahdri up of the ground an instant before the quake hit. The ground rock violently and the bead curtains of the nearby huts jangled. Clay pots fell over. The lanterns broke from their tethers and shattered. 

“No!” cries rose up from the dancers. “Not another!” “It’s come again!” “Smoking Mountain is going to blow!” 

Windkin and Ahdri flew up into the air, their eyes trained on the darkened pyramid to the south. No lightning sparks haloed its summit. But far beyond the mountain, along the World’s Spine, they saw a bright flash of orange fire. 

“What is it?” Windkin asked. 

“It’s another smoking mountain.” 

Windkin smiled. “The liquid fire’s found the way to the surface. But far downwind of the village. You did it, Ahdri! You diverted the river of fire away from Smoking Mountain.” 

* * * 

The next day saw the black clouds lift from Smoking Mountain’s peak. 

Within ten days the vent at the mountain’s summit had shut down completely.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the full EQ Alternaverse at http://www.janesenese.com/swiftverse


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